Over time the holidays have started to take a different meaning for me. The older we get the more cynical we become. Our belief in childhood magic goes away. I, no longer sit and write a letter to “Santa”. He isn’t a white bearded man in fact it is a curly, haired Puerto Rican woman. Rudolph the reindeer is nowhere to be found just a middle aged Puerto Rican man who looks like an Arab. Let’s not jump the gun; Christmas is still somewhat far away. In a couple days we get to feast like the kings and queens we are. Thanksgiving is coming to town. If your house is anything like mine get ready for the dysfunction. There’s nothing more exciting to me than being surrounded by relatives who I dislike. My favorite has to be the relative who everybody hates therefore no one invited but they still mustered the balls to show up. Everyone looks at each other with that “who the hell invited him?” look. I am a dedicated believer in Thanksgiving. I wake up early just in time to take a peek at her before the guests start arriving. Her scent is my alarm clock she’s intoxicating. Her smell leads me down the hall into the bathroom. I brush my teeth and wash up. I’m in a trance all roads lead to the oven. The closer the more my mouth salivates. I arrive at her display box where she is still and bright. The vegetarians would have a riot. While they’re eating a bowl of nuts and leaves, I am feasting. My plate is homage to the pilgrims. Here’s to you for doing whatever it is you did which I don’t care about. At this table there are no pilgrims just Puerto Ricans.

The time arrives to give thanks. What shall we give thanks to? The world is changing at warp speed. The market plummeted right before our eyes. Cuba Gooding Jr. is somewhere yelling “Show me the money”. Well, Cuba it seems like they don’t know where it went. An African- American man is our president. That’s new and different. Finally, a tanned face will grace the White House. A woman had a chance at being Vice President somewhere the feminists are flinging around their hairy armpits in enjoyment. I will keep my political opinions to myself. I went out eat at the Texas Roadhouse on Friday night with some friends. One of the signs hanging on the wall caught my attention it said roughly “There are only 37 days left for holiday shopping”. I thought to myself where are we supposed to shop every store is closing. This is one holiday season I’m especially thankful I do not have kids. Those bastards are ridiculously expensive. You can’t take them to a store because they start yelling throwing a tantrum over some toy they’ll only use for an hour then toss aside. When it comes to be my turn at the dinner table I think any of the above would suffice as an answer.

On a more serious note, this year has been the year of the impossible. As a people we look to each other and see a world of possibility. I look at my 8 year old brother who resembles a young Tarzan and think he can do anything. More importantly, the semester is almost over; this is the seventh inning stretch. So Nursing, Biology, Management, English, and Criminal Justice etc. you’re almost there. In couple weeks the long nights of studying, anxious eating, and calling home telling mommy to come get you are done. As a campus we can do it. This was my inspirational message from me to you. I f you don’t agree with anything agree with that. After it is all said done come see me because I got a bucket full of Jose and he wants to celebrate. Remember drink safe and carry condoms. Happy holidays from my dysfunctional family to yours.

Charlotte Valentin-Rivera is a contributing writer to the Mass Media